


Bruise

by wolfgirl232



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Blackrom, Bondage, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Domination, M/M, Rape, Troll Anatomy, hatefuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgirl232/pseuds/wolfgirl232
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee gets a violet surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruise

**Author's Note:**

> So...this happened. Call it an exploration in blackrom romance. Be warned.
> 
> Maybe it's because I have Ludo stuck in my head.

You never see him coming in the dark. You, who know the dark like your own skin, as it covers you nearly as frequently. He grabs you from behind, one hand slamming your head backward with its grip on your hair, the other claiming both your wrists behind your back. You consider screaming, but who would come? You run through your list of friends, and the only one you can single out that would even remotely consider helping you is currently pulling you deeper into a recess in the cavern of the air shaft. You can feel his breath on your ear, warm with loathing. Your eyes are wide, fear an unusual feeling in your bloodstream. Nonchalantly, he throws you to the floor, sending a resounding thud through both your head and the metallic surface. Before you even extend an arm to begin crawling away to safety, you feel him plant a foot in the small of your back with enough force to knock the wind out of you. 

But also to knock something into you.

This new, strange sensation of terror does something to you. Something infinitesimal clicks into place like the tumblers in a picked lock, and your fingers relax, curling in on themselves. You are unused to being reduced to something as pedestrian as fear, and you think you might admire someone who could instill it in you.

Not that you didn't already admire him. Scratch that. Worship him.

So it is almost with a smile on your face that you feel your wrists crossed over each other as the looming figure begins to bind your wrists with cord. Is that computer cable? The fleeting thought passes through your head that Karkat is going to be pissed. 

He continues to wind the cord up your arms, pulling them tightly together behind your back. You wince as your shoulder muscles stretch and your fingers tingle slightly. But you can feel your bulge twitch in its sheath. 

When your arms are bound tightly, he pulls you up roughly by the hair, settling you into a kneeling position. Before a breath can escape your lips, he is before you, his bulge forcing itself past your lips. As much as you try to resist, he is strong, and the member forces your mouth wide. It shoots into your throat immediately, and you gag, your breath torn from you. His hand in your hair pulls you away, not far enough for the violet mass to leave your mouth, but enough so you can drag in a gasping breath. Just as quickly, he forces you back down onto his shaft, his bulge plunging down your throat. He seems to have more control over it than you have seen before from others, as it doesn't thrash randomly within your mouth, but rather deliberately throat-fucks you. His hand continues to bob your head back and forth roughly, and you try desperately to suck in air when you can. You know that if you were to bite him that this would end badly. Maybe with some stairs. Maybe with even blacker darkness. 

So your eyes water and your mind screams for mercy, but you remain still and quiet, your only thoughts of air and keeping your throat relaxed. 

He growls as he thrusts into you a final time, his genetic material spilling down the back of your throat, no need for swallowing. You thrash slightly in surprise and violation, but his hand comes down on your cheek and you still. When he retracts from your mouth, he holds you by the hair, his bulge waiting patiently before your face. You can practically hear his order, and it is only for the sake, you think to yourself, of proving your intelligence that you comply. ‘See, I can figure out your silent puzzles.’ A passed IQ test.

He waits patiently as you lick him clean, your tongue wrapping itself around the slick flesh of his member. His seed is sweet, and for a moment the label of a Faygo bottle flashes into your mind. You wouldn’t be surprised, actually.

When he is satisfied, he flings you down once more, onto your back this time, your arms trapped between your body and the floor of the air duct. You avert your eyes as he kneels beside you and reaches for the fabric of your shirt. It gives little resistance to his fingers, which shred the material effortlessly. As he reaches for your pants, you screw your eyes shut, willing him not to. You can feel embarrassment color your face as he destroys another article of your clothing, revealing your arousal. Your bulge writhes on your stomach, reaching desperately into the air to find something, anything, to latch onto. You need friction...but no no not friction, you need to escape. You need to get out of here before...

You gasp as his hand wraps around you, his grip tight. The tip of your bulge tangles with his fingers as he strokes you leisurely, examining. 

Other than the sensations from between your legs impaling your body, you can feel only one other thing. Your blood boils in your veins as you glance out of the corner of your eye at him, his form almost melting into the darkness around the edges. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone, more than you’ve ever loved or laughed or cried. You want only to see him burn in some hell that you wouldn’t trust any other with the creation of. You want to end him. The only thing that prevents you from beginning construction is the ropes that bind you and the fact that he has already begun to act on what you now feel. 

And so you watch, motionless, as he stands and throws off his clothes, the false bones stripped from his body. His long, lean muscles roll under his skin as he disrobes and you fantasize briefly about tearing them from his real skeleton. 

But you should be paying closer attention. Because in a heartbeat he is kneeling between your legs, shoving your thighs apart with his merciless hands, a smile stretched wide on his terrifying face. You feel a second stab of violent fear stake you and spread outward from your chest, radiating through your abdomen. And your bulge writhes.

The tip of his bulge circles your nook, feels the moisture leaking from it. His smile stretches wider into mockery, and his eyes force yours open, stuck staring at his face. Without ceremony, he plunges into you, stretching you wide. Your back arches and your hands fist under you, your whole body screaming. With both hands on your legs, he begins thrusting into you relentlessly, his member twirling inside of you as it is forced in and out over and over. Small drops of violet leak from your thighs beneath his nails. Your mouth is open, begging, your eyes focused on his, directing all your loathing into his core. 

Just then he slams his hips into yours, forcing himself completely inside. There is nowhere near enough space, and you can feel your flesh strain not to tear. One of his hands wraps around your throat, slowly, each finger falling into place with sadistic precision. Your eyes roll backwards and a moan escapes your lips. No. Nonononono, not a moan, that was merely an expression of pain. His glare intensifies as the tip of his bulge swirls deep inside of you. You moan louder, your throat vibrating under his hand, the ceiling echoing back to you all of your shame.

Pulling you upward by the neck, he begins once more to thrust into you, the strokes short and fast, your back arched sharply. He lets the crown of your head rest on the floor as he pounds into you, your bulge flailing uselessly between your bodies. Stretching, it manages to wrap itself around his base, seeming to settle for the beating it takes from his thrusts. 

You come before he does, your hate and your libido rising to meet each other like two great sentinels. Violet splashes over your thighs and his pelvis as your jaw stretches as wide as it can, your silent scream met by the cold, empty air. He comes only a moment later, filling you, the excess spilling out onto the floor. 

With both of you still, he squeezes his fingers slightly, putting pressure on your airway again. Your eyes widen and he smirks, releasing you as a child might a forgotten toy. 

He pulls out of you in a swift motion and rises to his feet, dropping your legs carelessly. With his foot, he rolls you over onto your front. The sharp sound of a blade slices upward between your arms, and the rope falls limply from you. No wonder those claws had drawn blood. Your thoughts very much resemble the rope, used, constricting, and now weak and broken, the scraps slipping from you. You settle for a numb darkness that allows you to forget everything. Everything except the feel of him inside of you, the sensation of his eyes locked with your own.

And the burning.

But when you sit up, there is only blackness.


End file.
